Wait, You Already Knew?
by Sarah1281
Summary: Poor Alistair has been worrying for weeks on how to break the news to Angélique that he's the son of King Maric...only to find out that not only was she well aware of this fact but she didn't even realize it was supposed to be a secret.


Wait, You Already Knew?

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

Alistair stopped suddenly as the bridge leading to the village of Redcliffe came into view. He was out of time. The problem was, even though he had known this day was coming since he had seen the truth about Loghain, he still wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to break the news about his father to his fellow Warden. For that matter, he was nearly positive that he didn't want to. Still, it wasn't like there would be any avoiding it once he saw Eamon again and so it was best to just try and get this over with now. "Angélique, now that we're here at Redcliffe, there's something I need to tell you."

Angélique Amell smiled winningly at him. "I know that the sun shimmering through my hair is achingly beautiful and that I have on the most gorgeous armor that you've ever seen. You may feel free to tell me all about it, though, if you'd like," she invited.

Alistair rolled his eyes. He should have known she'd find some way to make this about how pretty she was. And she was very, very pretty with her long blonde hair and sparkly violet eyes – she was probably the prettiest girl he'd ever seen – but it just wasn't enough for him to overlook the fact that she was…well, _Angélique_. "I'll pass, thanks you."

"You can't resist me forever, Alistair!" she declared boldly, tossing her head to send a ripple through her lengthy tresses.

Alistair watched impassively, grateful that his years in the Chantry had given him some hard-won self-control. "Yes, I think I really can."

Angélique, predictably, misinterpreted this to suit her desires. "You're so sweet to worry about my virtue!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together in delight.

"Are you even listening to me?"Alistair demanded, a little annoyed.

"Of course, Alistair sweetie. You're very special to me, you know," Angélique said seriously, seeming to have forgotten all the times he had asked her not to address him by some inappropriate pet name.

Alistair debated pursuing this argument once again but decided against it. He couldn't put this off forever, tempting though it may have been. He sighed heavily. "You know what, never mind. Do you remember how I told you that I was raised by Arl Eamon?"

"No," Angélique replied promptly. She tilted her head in mild curiosity. "Who is Arl Eamon?"

"The Arl of Redcliffe," Alistair reminded her. A blank look was all he got in response. "You know, where we just showed up? He can help us deal with Loghain."

"Oh, _right._ Him," Angélique said, sounding utterly unconvincing. She seemed to realize this as she quickly pushed forth. "So you were raised by him or something?"

"Yes. What ever happened to 'I listen to everything you say because you're special to me,' anyway?" Alistair wondered sarcastically.

As he had expected, the sarcasm was once more lost on Angélique . "Nothing. It's still true," she declared earnestly.

Alistair put his hand up to his forehead. "Angélique is better than facing the Blight alone, Angélique is better than facing the Blight alone…" he repeated like a mantra.

"Aw, I feel the same way!" Angélique gushed, somehow managing to take that as a compliment.

Alistair cleared his throat loudly. "The reason Arl Eamon raised me was because my father was King Maric."

Angélique waited for him to go on. When it became clear that he wasn't going to, she prompted him with, "Okay…"

"Okay?" Alistair couldn't believe his ears. "_Okay_? I've been worrying to the point of losing sleep for weeks now over how to tell you this and all you have to say is 'okay'?"

"Congratulations on your acknowledged royal parentage!" Angélique tried again, looking positively radiant as she beamed.

"My mother was a maid up at Redcliffe castle and…" Alistair trailed off as he realized something odd. "Why aren't you surprised? You **do** realize what I just said, right?"

Angélique drew back, moderately offended. "Of course I do! You just told me about you and King Maric."

"Then…why aren't you reacting more strongly?" Alistair asked, confused.

"Well, how am I supposed to be reacting?" Angélique inquired politely.

Alistair shrugged. Now he was expected to be scripting other people's reactions for them? "I don't know. Maybe some shock or horror?" he suggested.

Angélique nodded. "By the Maker, you're a bastard prince? I never knew! To think that I, a mage, would fall for you! This can only end in tragedy," she cried out obligingly.

Alistair studied her carefully. "How genuine was that reaction?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Not even slightly," Angélique confessed. Damn. Clearly she was some actor. Now if only he could think of a way to act like she was somebody he didn't dearly wish to strangle half the time…

"Why aren't you surprised?" Alistair asked instead. "Most people would be, I think."

"Oh, well I already knew," Angélique said casually.

Alistair stopped breaking and automatically took a step back. "You…what? But how?" he asked weakly.

"The Circle Tower has a room full of portraits of previous Kings and, honestly, if you had the same hairstyle as Cailan did then you'd look exactly like your father," Angélique explained as if it were obvious. Since he was a former Templar-in-training perhaps he was expected to know there things? "As it is, when I first met you the resemblance kind of freaked me out. Didn't you take after your mother at all?"

Alistair looked down, disheartened. "I'm not even sure what she looks like," he admitted as the vague, ghostly image of Goldanna danced in front of his eyes.

"Cailan looked just like you and Maric as well but even if he had Maric's hairstyle it was a lighter color. Anyone who had ever seen you and either Cailan or Maric – or even just a portrait of one of them – will either make the connection or be too stupid to live," Angélique announced.

"And…you noticed this, did you? All by yourself?" Alistair couldn't help but ask, figuring that she probably wouldn't notice the insult. Angélique wasn't stupid, of course, but her consistent degree of self-absorption was actually quite remarkable.

"Of course I did," Angélique replied, sounding a little surprised at having been asked. "It was actually pretty obvious."

Alistair shook his head suddenly, rejecting her words, rejecting the very notion that all the sacrifices he'd been called upon to make, all the miseries of his youth were for naught. "No, I can't believe this! It's not that obvious!"

"About a year or so ago, there was this Orlesian noblewoman who came to tour the Tower for whatever reason. When she saw Maric's portrait she got upset and started talking about…" Angélique trailed off, a puzzled look crossing her delicate feature. "Well, you, actually."

"An Orlesian noblewoman?" Alistair repeated, rubbing his chin. "There aren't many of them left in Ferelden. I wonder if that was Lady Isolde. I don't know what she'd be doing at the Circle Tower, though."

"Well, I don't know either," Angélique told him. "Still, whoever she was she clearly had seen you before and made the connection."

"But…that's impossible. Very few people even know about me," Alistair insisted, crossing his arms defensively.

"Very few people might have been officially informed, Alistair," Angélique allowed, "but unless you want to let me drastically change your appearance permanently then people are going to continue to recognize you."

"No one has ever said anything…" Alistair mused, pointedly ignoring her suggestion that she be allowed to do any kind of advanced magic on him. Maybe that was the Templar talking instead of him, as Morrigan was apt to say, but he really didn't trust her that far. It was a sad, sad day indeed when one couldn't even trust one's own fellow Wardens but there you had it. It almost made him regret having put her in charge but at least they were usually fully clothed whenever they followed Angélique someplace.

"Maybe it's for the same reason that I didn't: it wasn't relevant and was obvious enough that I didn't realize that it was supposed to be some big secret," Angélique offered.

"The most oblivious girl I know is the first one to see it," Alistair muttered, horrified. "This is either pathetic or a really, really bad sign on the secret front."

Angélique was no longer listening. "You know, this village has a really misleading name. The cliffs aren't even red or anything! Some landmark…"

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